Mildred's remonstrances had subsided into passive resistance. She was generally silent and calm. The irksomeness of her situation was greatly aggravated; but, at the same time, her spirit was sustained by the memory which she cherished in her heart of the scene under the hawthorns of the cliff. Trusting that some accident might even yet frustrate her mother's intentions, she allowed her to proceed without protest, acting on her sister's advice, to postpone éclat to the latest possible period. She felt that she had deceived no one, and, if scandal came, it would be no fault of hers.
But had Esther been fully aware of all that was fermenting in the young lady's mind, she would, indeed, have bit her lips hard, rather than let slip that intimation respecting Trevethlan Castle. The idea of flight had occurred to the reluctant maiden more than once; coming, however, only to be dismissed. But if her lover were really ruined, if he to whom she had plighted herself were an exile from house and home, forlorn and outcast, then it was not unlikely Mildred might think that her vow as well as her affection bade her seek him, at once to share and to console his sorrow.
So Mrs. Pendarrel's hasty exclamation brought distress and anxiety to her daughter, and imparted a certain consistency to a notion which had previously been shadowy as a dream. Mildred wrote a long letter to her sister, partly lifting the veil from the emotions which agitated her, and dwelling more strongly than she had ever done before, upon the disquietude she felt at the mode in which the match was being hurried forward.
But it was not from this communication that Mrs. Winston would learn the result of the law-suit. She was at a party, when she overheard an allusion to it from a bystander. He was a barrister, who had been present at the trial, and who, having finished his business at the assizes, had returned with speed to London. She knew the person he was conversing with, joined them, and learned all the particulars. She had before talked the affair over, and was fully aware of the consequences to the orphans of Trevethlan. She immediately quitted the assembly, went home, and interrupted her husband in his studies. A brilliant creature she was, glowing in all the lustre and maturity of thirty summers, and now adorned with everything that could be imagined to enhance her beauty. So she swept to Mr. Winston's side, and laid her hand lightly upon his shoulder. And, with all his love of ease and philosophy, his indolence and affected apathy, he was really proud of his wife, and gratified whenever she came to him with a request. So, if there were a little impatience in his mind, when he looked up from his book into her face, it vanished immediately in admiration, and was succeeded by pleasure when he found she had come to consult him.
"So soon home, Gertrude," he said. "And why? I trust nothing is the matter."
She related what she had heard respecting the law-suit.
"And now," she concluded, "what will become of my unhappy cousins?"
"I think, my dear," her husband said, after some reflection,—"I think there could be no harm, considering all the circumstances, there could be no harm, I imagine, in begging Miss Trevethlan to make our house her home. I do not believe this verdict will stand. But, at all events, we might invite Miss Trevethlan to stay with us; at any rate for a time. She might be as private as she pleased. What do you say, my dear? You might write to her...."
He had laid his open volume upon his knee. What he suggested was precisely what Mrs. Winston desired. So much coldness had attended all her intercourse with her mother, since their last discussion about Mildred's marriage, that she took no heed of any objection from that quarter. She answered her husband by bending down and touching his cheek with her lips. He thought she had never looked so beautiful before, and threw away his book.
That evening was the beginning of a new era in Gertrude's life.